


everything i wanted

by fullsundial



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Photographer!Mark, Sad, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hyuck is a mystery, i love these boys too much, mark is a soft engineer, mark is in love, markhyuck, nct members as college students
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullsundial/pseuds/fullsundial
Summary: He turns the corner, then stops, deep in thought. He paces a little, then stops again.And then he sees him.In which Mark and Hyuck both visit a glass-domed flower conservatory, Mark as a photographer with the sole intent of photographing the flowers until he lays eyes on Hyuck, admiring the flowers by himself.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	1. sun

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for moochildren, who are the best, most supportive friends I could ask for, and Angie, who was the first person I shared this idea with. Y'all are my life. Everyone go read 'defying soulmates' by @poutyongs rn. Oh, and special shoutout to Sarah for basically forcing me to post this! #yonkers4life
> 
> Notes:  
> \- the title is inspired by Billie Eilish's song of the same name!  
> \- my username is also inspired by @sunlacie's fansite AU :)  
> \- Mark and Hyuck have personalities entirely created by me, none of it is supposed to reflect how they actually are in real life! Though maybe Mark is actually a genius little mathematician, who knows  
> \- I know absolutely nothing about photography!  
> \- markhyuck is my everything so I wrote this purely for myself

Mark shields his eyes from the sun as he speed walks towards the subway, cursing himself for not bringing his sunglasses. However much he hates wearing them, he hates the feeling of being blinded even more.

‘ _ The weather app said it would be cloudy this morning,’ _ he thinks frustratingly to himself as he feels sweat already starting to form under his bangs, which are curling in the heat. He mentally slaps himself for trusting that app once again. Every day when it fails him, he swears he won't rely on it the next day. Then it’s the next day, and he falls for it again. He can hear his mom’s words in his head.  _ You’re too trustworthy _ . His fatal flaw. Everyone knows that the predicted weather changes from minute to minute. He walks even faster, reasoning that getting to the station and therefore air conditioning faster is worth the extra exertion.

Mark has never been a summer boy. In fact, he hates it. He hates to sweat, he hates feeling hot, and he hates the glare of the sun against his skin. He hates popsicles and he hates wearing shorts and he hates cold drinks. He even hates the beach, to the great dismay of his best friend Taeyong, who would build a sandcastle and live by the sea if it were feasible. He still allows Taeyong to drag him there occasionally, if only to sit stiffly on a beach towel, taking extra great care not to get sand in his shoes, and photograph him floating peacefully in the water. Taeyong stopped pestering Mark to join him in the water after the second time they went, quickly learning that Mark’s mind was as solid as stone once it was set.

But most of all, Mark hates summer because of its lack of photographic inspiration. In the fall, there are the leaves, transforming into every shade of red, orange, and yellow imaginable. In the winter, there’s the snow, twinkling in the sun and making the entire city look as fresh as an ice cube. In the spring, there are the blooming flowers, bursting forth from their sleeping buds, creating a rainbow of life. Spring is Mark’s personal favourite. But in the summer…Mark can’t think of anything special about it. Shiny foreheads? The incessant ringing of the ice cream truck? Besides, he can hardly find the energy to lift his camera to his eye under all those muggy layers of heat. He wishes there was a dial on the sun he could turn to take the brightness down a notch.

He finally makes it to the subway, feeling sticky and uncomfortable and wishing he could take a nap. That’s another thing he hates about the summer. The heat makes you tired before the day even really begins. 

_ “I complain too much,” _ Mark thinks, annoyed with himself.  _ “Today is going to be a good day. It has to be a good day.” _

He’s headed to the flower conservatory, but not entirely for pleasure. It’s a summer project for a photography class. He’s always loved to take pictures, but he hardly has time for it during the school year. From September to April, he can almost feel his brain being sucked of all its life. There are only so many differential equations you can solve before your brain begins to collapse under the pressure. Though the temperature is stifling, it feels good to be on the subway on his own accord, not headed to a library, or a prep session, or to meet his lab partner, or to rush to an exam, but for something he wants to do. Not something he has to do, but something he wants to do.

The slight pressure on the back of his neck from the camera strap is comforting. He still remembers his very first camera. It was a cheap, purple polaroid camera, incapable of taking a clear picture, but Mark loved it like it was his child. He refused to part with it except for in the shower (though he remembers trying to convince his mom to let him hold it in the bathtub), and even slept with it beside his pillow. He took pictures of  _ everything _ . The sidewalk, squirrels, pictures in books, every single meal his mom ever made, his homework, his dog, Melon, and of course, his family. There must’ve been a thousand close-up photos of his sister Jay’s face tacked up to his bedroom walls, and even more of his grandfather.

He still wasn’t exactly sure what drew him so much to photography. He thought it must be something about its permanence, the way a particular object, or scene, or moment, could be immortalized. There’s nothing Mark hates more than to forget. It scratches at his mind and creates a feeling he can’t stand. There are people who write to combat that feeling, but Mark has never been good with words. Besides, he likes to see. He likes the feeling of glancing at a photograph and letting the memory of that moment wash over him like it had happened yesterday. He likes the gleeful look on people’s faces when he shows them a candid portrait of them he’s captured. He likes revelling in the beauty of ordinary life.

As with every other little kid, it was his dream to pursue what he loved the most when he grew up. He wanted to be a famous photographer, travelling the world, just like the ones whose photographs were plastered in the National Geographic. He wanted to photograph space and the deepest part of the ocean. But as with every other little kid, those dreams began to fade as he grew older. You want to be an astronaut. A florist. A musician. But then you wake up one morning and it hits you.  _ Oh, I don’t think this is going to work out.  _ You change your plans and you move on. In Mark’s case, this meant following his dad’s pathway and studying computer engineering. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it, but he doesn’t mind it either. The workload is heavy, but science is straightforward and honest and he likes that about it. At the very least, he’ll be able to get a job (if he graduates), and not everyone can say the same. 

Lost in his thoughts, Mark is startled when he hears his stop called out on the subway speakers.  _ The train is approaching Rosedale Station. The doors will open on the right. _

He jumps up in a hurry, nearly tripping over his feet, and leaps off the train. He quickly connects to the subway wifi to look up his destination on Google maps. It’s been 5 years that he’s been coming to this conservatory and he knows the route like the back of his hand, yet he’s still afraid that he’s going to get lost. 

It’s around a 10-minute walk and Mark resents having to be back in the sun. If possible, it’s gotten even hotter in the short 20 minutes that he’s been on the subway. Holding his phone up to his eyes as makeshift sunglasses to shield the sun, he speed walks once again. 

When he finally arrives at the conservatory, he breathes out a sigh of relief. Not only because the inside is pleasantly air-conditioned and the glass dome filters out the harshest rays of sun, but because it feels like home. He’s been coming to this conservatory since he was young, when his parents would bring him and Jay here on weekend outings. He misses those days. It’s a public space, so you don't have to pay, but it’s still incredibly well-maintained. Year-round, colourful flowers and plants adorn every corner, and stone benches are strategically placed on raised balconies so that you can sit and appreciate the flora in its entirety. Mark can easily spend entire days here. His Dad implores him to bring his schoolwork and study here too, since he spends so much time here anyway, but he knows that the moment a bit of calculus touches these walls, the peace will forever be ruined. 

Since the end of the school year was so hectic, with final projects and exams, he hasn't been able to visit for a while. Nothing’s changed, but he still feels like he’s neglected an old friend, and decides to take a walk around the entire grounds.

As he walks, he realizes that he has no idea what he wants to photograph. The class is flexible, so he was allowed to choose the project he wanted to pursue. He decided to start a photography account on Instagram. He’s only ever dealt with physical printed photographs, which he usually organizes into albums, so he wanted to try something different and go digital. He has plans to use new editing software to edit all the photos he takes, but that’s as far as his ideas go. He’s not sure if he’ll stick to a theme, or keep it randomized, or mix up portraits or landscapes. He set up an Instagram account yesterday, but as of now, it’s completely empty – Jay and Taeyong are his sole followers. Today his plan was to photograph the flowers, of course, but he knows that that won't be enough. Anyone can take a photo of flowers and make it look pretty. He mentally slaps himself once again for not thinking this through. He should’ve brought Jay as a model, like he usually does, but remembers that she’s watching a movie with her friends today. He considers going somewhere else, but where? And he just got here, too.

He turns the corner, then stops, deep in thought. He paces a little, then stops again.

And then he sees him.


	2. gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Finally, the boy slowly turns to face him, and Mark can’t breathe._
> 
> In which Mark notices the way the stranger's golden skin looks against the vibrant colours and shyly asks if it would be alright if he could photograph him. Alternatively, in which Mark is much braver than he thought he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this chapter made me particularly sad while I was writing it. I think maybe I love these boys too much. Sorry for taking so long to upload but I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Notes:  
> \- when I tagged this as Tooth-Rotting Fluff I was not exaggerating  
> \- read with "Bloom" by The Paper Kites playing in the background for added effect!  
> \- credit goes to Sarah for Taeyong's delicious hair colour :) dw, Taeyong will make many more appearances in future chapters

Mark thinks he must be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life. Even from a distance, Mark is inexplicably captured by the way he’s standing and the way his light brown hair falls over his forehead in fluffy waves. His skin is the colour of gold, and the sunlight filtering through the glass panes seems to set his whole figure alight with an ethereal glow. He’s staring at the sunflowers with a focused furrow to his brow. In fact, Mark realizes, it’s almost like he’s _studying_ them. The stranger steps forward to get a closer look at the flowers. He reaches up deftly to brush a lock of his bangs away from his face and Mark is in awe. His fingers twitch with the desire to reach for his camera and snap a photograph. 

It’s when the boy takes out his phone to take a picture of the flowers that Mark is snapped back to reality. The way he’s holding the camera is so off that it makes him cringe on the inside. 

_“There’s no way the lighting is highlighting any of the colour at that angle”_ , he thinks to himself, and it hurts because he knows how beautiful it could be if only he shifted his phone downwards and tapped the corner of the screen to adjust the lighting. The boy takes one single photo, at a frustratingly slow pace, then puts the phone back in his pocket. He straightens, and continues to just stand there, staring at the flowers. He has a strange expression on his face, a combination of wonder, and wistfulness, and maybe sadness too. Yes, Mark decides, he definitely looks sad. Mark wonders what could possibly make this beautiful boy look so sad.

The boy takes his phone out again and positions it in the exact same angle as before. Mark almost physically recoils. He debates whether he should approach the boy and offer his suggestions on how to make the photo better. He begins to step forward, then second guesses himself. Would that be too strange? Is it somehow too forward? He decides that yes, it is, and steps back. He begins to turn around, then stops. He squirms a little. 

_“Oh, fuck it,”_ he thinks, and begins to walk forward. 

Just as he’s about to change his mind and turn back again, the boy looks up. Their eyes meet. 

Mark freezes. He never really understood what it meant for time to stand still, when he read it in books, but he feels it now. It makes him almost dizzy. After what feels like a lifetime, the boy turns his face away and continues to stare at the flowers. Mark lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He deliberates for another moment. Then, with courage he didn't even know he possessed, he walks forward.

“Hey,” he says, when he’s about a foot away. His voice cracks and he wants to kick himself.

“Hi,” the boy says, facing straight ahead, apparently refusing to break his staring contest with the flowers.

“I just noticed you,” Mark gets out in a rush, then laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, uh, what I meant to say is, well, I didn't notice _you_ , but I noticed you like taking a photo, and I thought it would turn out better if you maybe angled it another way because the lighting is actually coming from straight above.” He finishes his sentence in a rush.

Realizing he probably sounds like a crackhead, he quickly adds, “I’m, uh, into photography. That’s why I noticed.”

Realizing that this addition doesn't really advocate for his clean drug history, he adds again, “I’m Mark, by the way. I’m sorry.”

Finally, the boy slowly turns to face him, and Mark can’t breathe.

He has skin the colour of caramel and eyes to match, the way the light is hitting them from above. They’re large and almond-shaped and sad. Again, Mark’s fingers twitch for his camera.

“I’m Donghyuck,” the boy says, and Mark thinks his voice sounds like the way honey tastes. The boy doesn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “But call me Hyuck. What did you say?”

A moment passes, then with a jolt Mark realizes that a reply is in order.

“I said you might get a better photo if you tilt your phone like…” He tries to mime the motion with his hands but doesn't do a very good job.

The corner of Hyuck’s mouth twitches a little more, and after a moment of watching the other boy struggle, hands him his phone. “Show me,” he says.

Mark takes the phone gratefully, quickly swiping to open the camera function. “See,” he says, “if you angle it like this, the light from the panel above hits from the side rather than directly above, so the sunflowers won’t be as shaded and you can see them better. Also…” 

His voice falters when he notices that Hyuck has moved closer to him to get a better look. He’s shorter, and the top of his head looks like it’s been speckled in flakes of gold, like the ones that bakers sprinkle on top of their fancy cakes. He looks up at Mark, then, and the light makes his eyes look golden too, like a tiger’s. “Also what?”

Mark blinks, then clears his throat. “Also, if you tap the corner of the photo, here,” he continues. “You can adjust the lighting so you can see the colour of the flowers better.”

Hyuck leans in even closer, and, while Mark is still holding the phone in the correct position, reaches to tap the button that captures the photo. He takes his phone then, his fingers brushing against Mark’s, and peers closer at the screen. “It does look a lot better,” he acknowledges, then raises his eyes to meet Mark’s. “Thank you.”

Mark coughs uncomfortably and scuffles his feet. He’s suddenly forgotten how to function in society. 

“No problem,” he manages to say.

Hyuck peers at the photograph a little longer, then looks back up at the sunflowers. The relaxed look that had overcome his face just moments before melts away, and he goes back to looking studious, barely masking the sadness that Mark can see lurks just beneath. His eyebrows furrow, his eyes narrow, and Mark is almost convinced that he wants to memorize those sunflowers, down to the very last detail. He’s never seen anyone look so focused, not even while writing an exam, let alone in an observatory. His head swims with questions. Why is he so fascinated by those sunflowers? Why do sunflowers make him so sad?

He realizes then how strange it is, what he’s doing, studying a boy studying the flowers. He reaches down to hold up his camera, not wanting to leave but wanting to seem like he has a purpose. He lifts the camera to his eye and focuses the lens on the yellow roses arranged carefully just next to the sunflowers. 

_“They’re beautiful,”_ he admires, capturing a shot of the flowers up close, revelling in the detail that his camera offers him. Yellow roses are Taeyong’s favourite flower, which is why they stand out to him. It occurs to him that an interesting idea for his summer project could be to match the people in his life with flowers, perhaps photographing each of them against a floral backdrop. He suddenly remembers that Taeyong had just dyed his hair a light ash brown (by himself, at 2 am in the morning), and thinks that it would look striking against the roses, which are now in full bloom. He makes a mental note to himself to ask Taeyong whether he’d have time to join him at the observatory. He works at a bubble tea shop, but he’s sure he could take a few hours off. 

He snaps a few more pictures of the roses. Then, almost out of his control, he shifts his camera so it focuses on Hyuck, who’s still studying the flowers. The lighting is truly magical, Mark muses. Against the backdrop of yellow sunflowers, with golden light streaming from above, his profile looks angelic. Mark doesn't think, and captures this photograph:

“Are you a photographer?” Hyuck asks in his smooth voice, not even looking away from the flowers.

Mark nearly jumps out of his skin. He quickly swivels the camera away, feeling heat creep up his neck. He raises the camera to his eye again, just to hide his face for a moment, and closes his eyes. He doesn't know if Hyuck noticed him taking a picture, but he desperately hopes not.

“Uhh,” he says eloquently. “It’s just a hobby, really, I’m not that good. I started getting into it when I was little and I’ve just been taking classes here and there since then, whenever I have time. What about you?”

He thinks about what he’s just said and wants to knee himself in the balls. 

_“What about you?!”_ he yells at himself. _“Are you thick-headed?_ Just as he’s about to take it back and correct himself, Hyuck lets out a laugh. Mark’s jaw almost drops. His laugh sounds like Christmas bells, and it changes his whole face. Mark didn't think he could get any more beautiful. 

“I’m an awful photographer,” Hyuck says, finally looking away from the flowers to meet Mark’s eyes. The smile still lingers on his face. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

Mark suddenly feels awful. 

“No, I wasn't thinking that at all!” he protests. “The iPhone camera is kind of hard to work at first, but once you get the hang of it, it’s pretty easy. Any idiot can take a nice photo.” He looks down at his feet. The laces on one of his black Converse high tops have come undone. He wants to bend down to tie it but he doesn't want to risk accidentally ending the conversation. 

He looks up, and is surprised to see that Hyuck is still looking at him. 

“I don’t think so,” the boy says sincerely. And then, after a moment, he adds, “Can I see the picture you took of me?”

Mark nearly chokes. So he _did_ notice. He tries to collect himself quickly, and squeaks out a “Sure,” pretending he isn't so embarrassed that he wants to dig a hole in the soil and bury himself alive. He fiddles with his camera to put the photo on the screen, and turns it around so Hyuck can see.

Hyuck studies the photo for a minute. “It’s beautiful,” he says quietly, and the way he says it, Mark knows that he’s really seeing the photograph – _all of it_. 

He turns the camera screen back to himself and looks at the picture himself. It really is beautiful. He really is beautiful. Something strikes him then, out of the blue, and he doesn't think. He just speaks.

“I was wondering,” he blurts out. “Would you mind being my model today?”

Hyuck looks at him and blinks.

“Would it be okay if I photographed you?” Mark clarifies. “It’s for a project for my summer class...of course, if you don't want to, that’s totally fine, I just thought I would ask. Actually, you know what, never–”

“Sure,” Hyuck says. The corners of his mouth slowly turn into a smile and Mark is falling.


	3. haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hyuck complies, standing rather awkwardly. He looks up at Mark. “What pose should I do?”_
> 
> _Mark smiles, thinking his sudden awkwardness is wholly endearing._
> 
> In which Mark continues to become more perplexed by a boy who turns out to be an awful model. Alternatively, in which Mark needs to have a chat with Taeyong because he’s unintentionally ruined everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SUCH AN INCONSISTENT WRITER I'M SORRY!!! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!! I hope you enjoy this (somewhat boring) chapter :')

Mark realizes quickly that Hyuck is an awful model.

In fact, he’s probably the worst model that Mark has ever worked with. Granted, his “photography career” is practically nonexistent, but still. First of all, he is so easily distracted. Mark’s initial plan was to start at the sunflowers, then go along the path around the entire garden until they made it back to the entrance. He’s decided that he wants to stick to yellow flowers as backdrops, just since he knows how complementary they’ll be. Gold and yellow. Royal. Mark asks him first to stand against the sunflowers, with his head turned to the side, and he’s sure that nothing can go wrong. Any idiot can hold that pose for a few minutes, right? But Hyuck keeps slowly edging around until he’s facing the flowers again. And every time Mark reminds him to turn his head to the side, the exact same thing happens again. The funny thing is, he doesn't even seem to realize he’s doing it. Mark can’t even get upset because he finds it so entertaining. It’s almost like the boy keeps forgetting he’s being photographed. What on Earth is on his mind?

Eventually, Mark decides to take a different approach. He comes around to Hyuck’s side and faces his camera in that direction. Now, rather than the sunflowers acting as a backdrop, they instead frame the edge of the photograph, adding an edging of hazy yellow. It isn't what Mark had initially pictured, but he thinks it might turn out nice. After taking a few shots, he lowers the camera to watch the other boy for a moment. Just for a moment. 

Just a few minutes ago, the thought of interacting with the other boy, even the thought of being so close to him, would’ve made Mark sweat with nerves. But now that he’s in his  _ photographer _ zone, and now that he’s on a mission, not just a creepy kid, Mark allows himself to stare. Contrary to when Mark first saw him, he looks much more relaxed. He even looks almost at peace. He still looks sad, but less angry. But best of all, he stops moving. Mark takes a few more pictures from that angle, playing around with zoom and adjusting the lighting. He doesn't look at any of them after he’s taken them, knowing he would get lost in them. He decides that he’ll go through them all and edit tonight when he gets home.

Slowly, leisurely, they walk from flower to flower, with more or less the same thing happening each time. They don’t talk much. He is very quiet and Mark is very focused and that is not a recipe for a lot of conversation. Mark does end up getting a few side profiles, but mostly they’re all candid shots. He’s learned that as a photographer, there’s no sense dictating exactly what your model will do, or else the shots will turn out unnatural. 

Just as he’s about to ask Hyuck to move to the next set of flowers, the other boy’s phone rings. His serene facade is absolutely shattered and he physically jumps. He yanks the phone out of his pocket and walks away from Mark without a word. Mark can’t hear anything that’s being said, but the visible relief that floods Hyuck’s face once he holds the phone to his ear is unmistakable. He can’t help but be curious about what the good news could be. It seems that this boy will continue to make him curious. After a few more moments on the phone, Hyuck walks back.

“Sorry,” he says, with a sheepish smile, resuming his position in front of the flowers. 

Mark laughs, because it’s not like he had been posing properly to begin with. Hyuck looks at him with confusion.

“Don’t worry,” Mark says, shaking his head with a smile. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Hyuck says, and the smile on his face shows Mark that he means it.

“Let’s move to another set of flowers,” Mark suggests lightly.

As they walk, Mark realizes that he knows little to nothing about this strange boy. Thinking that at this point there’s nothing more he can lose, now that all his pride has already been flushed down the toilet, he asks timidly, “Are you a student?”

Hyuck whips his head around to look at him in shock, as if Mark had asked a jarring personal question. 

“You don’t have to answer that,” Mark adds quickly, frightened by how easily the boy gets spooked. “Forget I asked.”

“No, it’s okay,” Hyuck says, frowning. But he doesn’t look angry at all, just confused. “Yeah, it’s okay. Uh, I should technically be going into second year, but I guess I’ll be going into first year since I deferred a year. I’ll still be a part-time student, though, for the time being. I couldn’t take that many classes.”

Mark looks at him with a question in his eyes. He doesn't want to ask, because he doesn't want to scare the boy away, but the confusion in his eyes gives him away. 

“I needed the time to work,” Hyuck clarifies, with a smile that seems a little forced. “I managed to get a job at the library, actually. It was the only job I could get on campus.”

Mark is shocked to find out that they would be attending the same school, and takes particular care to memorize the name of the library, as it’s one he’s never been to before. 

“What are you going to be studying?” Hyuck asks. Mark has just told him that he’s going into second year at the same school, and despite his best efforts to sound cool and collected, the excitement is still clear in his voice.

“I study computer engineering,” Mark says, but not with an ounce of pride or passion. “My dad’s a computer engineer. I didn't have much of a choice in the matter.”

Hyuck lets out a little hum of sympathy. “That really sucks.”

“It’s alright,” Mark says mildly. He realizes then that they’re back at the entrance of the observatory. They stop walking. He looks over at Hyuck, who is chewing on his lip. He seems deep in thought.

“Hey,” Mark says brightly. “Go stand over there, in front of that tree.”

Hyuck complies, standing rather awkwardly. He looks up at Mark. “What pose should I do?”

Mark smiles, thinking his sudden awkwardness is wholly endearing.

“Nothing,” Mark replies. “Just talk. Tell me something.”

Hyuck opens his mouth to talk, and Mark lifts the camera to his eye. He loves photographing people while they talk. He thinks it’s the perfect combination of posed and candid. There’s isn’t any of that stiffness there is in a forced pose, but there’s enough direction that Mark can make sure the angle and lighting is right.

“My favourite season is summer,” Hyuck begins to say.

Mark lowers the camera and scrunches his nose. “Really? Why?”

He raises the camera to his eye again once Hyuck starts to talk. “All of my favourite memories are from the summertime. The flowers are out, the weather’s nice, and–”

Mark never gets to find out what else he loves about summer because they are rudely interrupted, this time by Mark’s obnoxious ringtone (Taeyong had set it to “Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears and Mark couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to change it, some computer engineer he is). Mark curses inwardly at the interruption in conversation and hastily picks up the phone, nearly dropping it in his rush. He doesn’t even read the name. 

“Hello?” he answers, breathless. 

“Hey, I need your—wait, are you okay?” It’s Taeyong. “Why are you breathing so hard?”

“I’m fine,” Mark huffs. “What’s up?”

“You need to get your ass over here  _ right now _ , dude, the shop is bursting with people and we’re understaffed, and—ow!” Taeyong let’s out a yelp. 

Mark can hear a faint male voice yell in the background.  _ “Taeyong, get off the phone or I’ll kill you! I can’t handle this crowd on my own!” _

“I’m getting help, you ass!” he hears Taeyong yell back with a laugh, and even through the sarcasm Mark can hear the fondness in his voice. He smiles and makes a mental note to talk to him about that later. 

“So, can you come?” Taeyong asks eagerly. 

“But,” Mark protests weakly. “What am I gonna do? I’ve never made bubble tea before in my life.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Taeyong insists. “I’ll teach you. Or you can take orders. You’ve got that middle schooler cuteness so people might stop bitching at us so much if you make conversation with them.”

“But-“ Mark attempts to protest once more, glancing at Hyuck. He  _ really _ doesn’t want to leave, but what excuse can he give to Taeyong when the other boy is looking at him with eyes full of concern?

“See you soon!” Taeyong butts in cheerily. “You know the address, right? You better be on your way right now! Bye, gotta go!”

Mark hears more yelling in the background, then the line goes dead. 

“Fuck,” he mutters very faintly under his breath. 

“Everything okay?” Hyuck asks worriedly, mirroring their conversation just earlier that morning. 

“Yeah,” Mark says with a sigh. “My friend’s just in a little crisis at work, and I have to go help him. I’m sorry.”

He looks up from his feet, expecting a blank face to be staring at him. Instead, Hyuck looks almost – forlorn?

“Go,” he says, shooing Mark towards the exit.

Mark turns to leave, not sure what else can be said, then whips around. “Is it okay if I post them? The pictures, I mean. I made an Instagram yesterday. For the project”

The corner of Hyuck’s mouth quirks upward in what Mark is realizing is his signature half-smile. “Okay,” he says, but a little hesitantly. “What’s the username?”

Mark gives him the username, and a moment later feels the buzz in his pocket from the notification that someone has followed him. He debates for a moment whether he should give him his personal Instagram, but thinks he’s prodded the poor boy enough for one day. He can always follow him later. 

Dragging himself out of his thoughts, he says a quick bye and heads towards the doors. Once he’s outside, he takes a glance back through the glass double doors, almost against his own will. 

He sees a boy, golden, staring sadly at the flowers.


	4. dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He can still feel the memories of the morning swirling inside him, like the lasting effects of a dream, and he doesn’t want that feeling to evaporate. At least not for today. He allows himself that much._
> 
> In which Mark slowly wakes up from an experience that he can’t believe really happened and reluctantly returns to reality. Alternatively, in which we learn that Taeyong has a concerning bubble tea addiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Long time no see! I haven't forgotten about this story! I told myself I was going to upload every few days, and although that kind of optimism is pretty beautiful, let's be honest here - my uploading schedule is going to be extremely sporadic, and I apologize in advance ;-; regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter! If you're not in love with Taeyong by the end of it, I've done something wrong.

Mark races to the bubble tea shop as fast as he can, his heart racing even faster, and his mind racing even faster than that. Panic about the shop, stuffed with angry people who might be yelling at Taeyong. Panic about the bus not coming in time. And most of all, panic about the weight of a notification he hasn’t opened, hasn't even dared look at. Panic about the boy who produced said notification. Panic, panic, panic. He doesn't understand why his thoughts won’t stop cycling and wishes they would stop. He begins to second guess everything he’s said and done in the last few hours. He hopes no one’s throwing a fit at the bubble tea shop. _Is Jay home yet? Is she okay?_ _Should I accept the follow request right now? Is that too soon? Too late? Did he unfollow? Should I call Jay?_

His mind is still racing a hundred miles per minute as he shoves open the swinging door of the bubble tea shop and runs in, panting. 

It’s empty. 

He whips his head around the shop as he walks further in slowly, carefully, as if expecting that a crowd of angry customers might jump out at him from behind the counters and under the tables. 

_ Taeyong said they were overrun with people and understaffed _ , Mark recalls, genuinely confused.  _ What’s going on? _

It’s dead silent, until Mark hears a sharp laugh that’s quickly muffled. 

“What the fuck?” he questions under his breath. “Taeyong?”

The laugh bursts forth again, and just as Mark comes to a grip with what’s happening, Taeyong and another boy leap up from where they’ve been crouching behind the counter and burst into laughter. 

“Look at his face!” Taeyong cries, nearly doubled over in laughter. “You look like you just walked into a murder scene!”

The other boy can’t seem to hold in his laughter as well. 

Mark’s expression of confusion quickly turns into one of anger, and he marches behind the counter and punches a laughing Taeyong in the arm as hard as his weak arm muscles will allow. 

“You little fucker!” he shrieks. “I can’t believe you lied to get me to come! Do you know how quickly I ran from the station? Do you know how panicked I was?”

Taeyong rubs his arm in feigned hurt but the wide grin doesn’t leave his face. 

He leans into the other boy, who’s watching the whole situation unfold with a smile, looking up at him with those signature, dangerous Taeyong puppy dog eyes. 

“Jaehyun, tell him that we were bored and I just really wanted to see him. No foul.” 

The other boy – Jaehyun, apparently – ruffles Taeyong’s hair with a smirk, but refuses to offer any defense, apparently enjoying Mark’s angry scowl too much. 

“You must be Mark,” he says, and the two shake hands amiably. 

For a moment, Mark notes how comfortable the pair looks, and how complementary their hair colours of ash brown and lavender look next to each other. Despite his annoyance with his friend, his fingers twitch with the desire to take a picture. Instead, he makes eye contact with Taeyong and raises an eyebrow. 

Taeyong hastily jumps apart from Jaehyun and claps his hands together. “Mark!” he exclaims. “My dear Mark. Forgive me. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you a bubble tea - on the house!”

Mark eyes him warily and takes a seat. “You know you’re not allowed to do that.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “I’m paying for it, you twat,” he says, then appears to get slightly embarrassed. “I just wanted to use the term “on the house”.”

Both Mark and Jaehyun burst out in laughter. To his great annoyance, Mark can never stay mad at Taeyong for long. 

“You’re so lame,” he insults, grinning. 

Taeyong raises his hands from the sink where he’s been washing a blender. “Stop! It sounds cool in dramas.”

Mark shakes his head, thoroughly amused. While Taeyong fusses with making the tea, he entertains himself by watching the two boys interact behind the sink. Taeyong had mentioned the coworker he’d befriended, but he’d failed to mention just how  _ pretty _ he was. And tall. And good-natured. No wonder Taeyong was so smitten with him. 

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, it seemed. Gentle hands on waists, trying to move past each other. Bumping hands as they fought for sink space. Hair ruffles. Fist bumps. Quick smiles. Taeyong says something under his breath and the other boy lets out a warm laugh that quickly fills the shop.

Mark is once again struck by the way Taeyong gives and accepts love – plenty of it, with no abandon – like he was put on Earth for that job specifically. His brightness attracts people to him like planets orbit the sun, and Mark wishes he had some of the natural ease and liveliness of his best friend. 

Mark makes eye contact with Taeyong and winks obnoxiously. Taeyong startles, and whips his head around to see if Jaehyun’s seen, which, unfortunately, he hasn't. Then he shoots Mark a neck-slicing motion, which Mark knows to interpret as “if-you-don't-stop-right-now-I’m-throwing-this-bubble-tea-at-your-head.”

Minutes later, Taeyong places a large watermelon fruit tea with tapioca, less ice, and extra sugar in front of Mark. He plops down beside him, after they say goodbye to Jaehyun. 

Mark had been scrolling idly through his phone, pointedly ignoring his Instagram, when he remembered with a start that he’d meant to call Jay. He dials and holds the phone to his ear. 

Taeyong nearly chokes on a tapioca bubble from Mark’s bubble tea that he’d been stealing. 

“Dude,” he blanches. “Are you calling my  _ mom _ ?!”

Mark delivers a pinch to his cheek. “No, what the fuck? I’m calling Jay. You fool.”

Taeyong sighs in relief, continuing to sip on his (Mark’s) bubble tea.

“How is she?” he queries as the phone rings, genuine concern painted on his face. 

Mark is about to reply, when Jay’s voice pipes up on the other end of the line. 

“Hello?” 

“Jay, it’s Mark. Are you home?”

“I just got home,” she replies, and Mark thinks he hears a sniffle. “Where are you?”

“I’m with Taeyong,” he says, who perks up at his name, like a puppy. 

“Is anyone home?” Mark asks. 

“Yes, six dancing bears in ballerina slippers holding popsicles and a bathtub full of loneliness.”

It's a little game they play. No one is ever home, and the other person has to come up with the most ridiculous statement they can think of to fill the void of what should’ve been “Mom”, or “Dad”. 

Mark furrows his brows. Typically Jay’s descriptions are long and winding, full of life and hilarity. Today’s bit is concerningly short. He suspects the reason why. 

“Hey, everything okay?” he asks gently.

“Mark,” she whispers. “I  _ miss _ him.”

“I know,” he whispers back. “We’ll visit him soon, okay? I promise.”

“Okay.”

An idea strikes him. “How about we go out for ice cream today? Or, at least, you get ice cream and I’ll get coffee,” Mark suggests, not about to trigger his lactose intolerance into flaring. “I can take some pictures of you at the park nearby. They just planted new flowers.”

“Yes!” she answers, voice considerably brighter. “Let’s do that please.”

He hangs up and heaves a sigh. He sees that Taeyong has been watching him anxiously, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly when Mark hangs up. 

“She’s been taking it really hard,” Mark explains with a frown. “She was already really lonely to begin with.”

Jay is a nine-year-old girl who has essentially grown up without parents. Their parents leave the house early and come home late, working, working, working. Until last year, it had been okay. She’d had their grandfather, who lived in a nursing home within walking distance, and she’d had Mark, who came home from school as early from possible to be with her. 

But last year, Mark started university, meaning he was home a lot less. 

And a few weeks ago, their grandfather had collapsed from a heart condition, leaving him bound to the hospital for an indefinite amount of time. 

It was like Jay had lost the last two of her family members in one shot. Now that it was summer, Mark resented leaving her home with no one around. She was only nine. 

Mark has been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hasn’t even realized that Taeyong’s said something to him.

The other boy waves a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Mark?”

He blinks. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said if you ever need anyone to be with Jay, if you’re busy with photography stuff and I’m not working, I’m happy to go over and hang out with her. She likes me better than you, anyway.”

Mark grins because he knows it’s probably true. “Thanks, Taeyong. Because you said that, I’ll forgive you for finishing my bubble tea.”

Taeyong looks down, genuinely shocked to see the bubble tea more than three quarters empty. 

“Oh, shit!” he cries. “I’m so sorry, how did that happen? I’ll make you another one.”

Mark motions exasperatingly for him to sit down. “Sit, you dummy. I knew you were gonna finish it, which is why I let you buy it in the first place. You know I’d never let myself be in debt to you over  _ bubble tea _ .”

Taeyong smiles sheepishly at that and sinks back down into his seat. “True.”

“So,” Taeyong continues. “What were you up to this morning? Why did you sound so out of breath when I called you earlier?”

“I was at the conservatory,” he answers, after a moment of thought.

It isn’t a lie. And it’s not like he doesn’t want to tell Taeyong. He does, desperately. But it’s like when you wake up from a dream, and the magical feeling of the dream is still hugging you, trapping you in a dreamlike state. And you try to tell someone, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t put the magical quality into words that’ll make them understand how special it is. And the more you try, the more the feeling fades away, until you’re left with just a memory of something good. He can still feel the memories of the morning swirling inside him, like the lasting effects of a dream, and he doesn’t want that feeling to evaporate. At least not for today. He allows himself that much. 

“Oh, get any good photos?” Taeyong asks excitedly, not noticing that Mark hasn't answered his question.

Mark smiles conspiratorially, because he knows Taeyong is going to see them when he posts on the Instagram, and knows with certainty that he’s going to absolutely lose his mind. 

“You’ll see!” he says, knowing Taeyong despises when he says this.

Taeyong blubbers out a protest but Mark stands up decisively before he can be pressured. 

“Sorry I can’t hang out today, man,” Mark apologizes. “Maybe sometime this weekend?”

Taeyong shoos him away. “Go, go. I’m gonna go bother Jaehyun.”

Mark’s mouth stretches into a smile, and he opens it to say something, when Taeyong nearly yells “Shut up! Shut  _ up _ . I don’t want to hear it. Go!”

Mark laughs and does just that, promising Taeyong that they’ll have a good interrogation session later. He has a feeling that after tonight, when he posts, Taeyong will have quite a bit to ask him about as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'll try to upload the next chapter faster ;-;


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